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“Can I sleep here tonight?”
She asks and his heart sinks at how fragile her voice sounds.
Daisy is so – monumental. Yet, right now, with tears in her eyes and her knees against her chest, she looks, and sounds, small. Too small, actually. And it scares him. Because since the moment he felt she could be gone from his life and this world altogether, he finally let himself acknowledge it.
The second before she opened her eyes and looked up at him, while he held her cold, nearly dead body to his own on that shower floor, he was praying. Praying to whatever God was listening, offering his own soul as sacrifice if it meant guaranteeing she’d be safe.
And then she was breathing again and using the little to nothing strength she had to tell him, it’s you.
So yeah, he’s head to toe in love with her.
As he stares into her pleading eyes, he can’t help but think he likes her voice better when it’s as big as he knows it can be. He likes it better when it belts, when she sings loudly in front of thousands and thousands of devoting fans. He likes her voice better when it blends perfectly with his. He even likes her voice better when she’s shouting furiously at him.
“Of course, I’ll –” Billy uses every bit of strength in his body to get up, his legs seeming to suddenly weigh two hundred pounds each.
When he reaches the door, he looks at her again. And he aches for her everywhere in his body. His fingers are itchy, crazy to touch her, so he pats them slightly on the wall. His mouth waters, desperate to taste her, desperate to make her feel good – so good all the pain in her is gone, exorcized forever.
He swallows. “Um, do you need anything?”
Daisy thinks there are several things she needs from him. Several things she wants to ask of him. Several things he would say yes to, right now, judging by how he’s staring at her. “No, Billy. Thank you.”
She spots some sort of disappointment in his eyes, like he was hoping she’d say the opposite. Regardless, he nods, swallows again, and when she thinks he’s going to move, he says, “I don’t hate I was the one who saved you, Daisy.”
It was, hands down, the single most terrifying moment of his life.
All the rage he was feeling when he knocked on her door suddenly disappearing into terror and urgency the second he realized something was wrong. The panic he felt when he laid eyes on her, pale and alone and neglected on that floor. The anger he felt for not being able to keep it from happening. The overwhelming realization of how every cell in his body was begging her to stay alive and with him. The desperation in letting himself acknowledge how much love he had for her, dreading it could be too late.
And even though he hated that it happened, he didn’t hate he was the one who saved her. How could he?
She gives him a small smile and he thinks she understands what he means, thinks she can almost see every train of thought behind his eyes. His feet are planted on the floor and he lets out a breathless laugh before he confesses, “I don’t want to leave.”
Now she’s the one swallowing but her voice no longer comes out fragile when she answers, “I’m not asking you to.”
It’s all the encouragement he apparently needs.
After closing the door, Billy moves to sit where he was previously sitting, across from her on the couch. Daisy obviously isn’t having it. If he wants to be here, then he’ll be here.
She makes a scoffing sound and it gets his attention right away, like she knew it would. “You’re not going to sit all the way there.” She says, matter-of-factly, and he raises an eyebrow at her – Daisy thinks he’s trying to give her a warning look but all she sees is his amusement.
“We both know that’s why you stayed here.” Her eyes darken and his mouth waters, again. “Come here, Billy.”
He thinks his name was made to roll off her tongue, regardless the context or situation. He likes how his name sounds on her lips when she’s angry or enthusiastic. When she’s lecturing or mocking him. And he likes it right now, too, when she says it easily and with a tenderness that should probably not exist but does.
So, naturally, he walks and sits by her side.
“Can I ask you something?” Billy inquires, after resting his elbow against the back of the couch, his hand supporting his face.
Daisy sits closer to him, mimicking the position of his arm with her own, her knees pressed against her chest. She throws some of the blanket that covers her legs on his, too. “What?”
“Before, when you said I was right, how did you mean it?”
She spots certain ambivalence in his voice – like he’s equally eager and scared about the reality of her answer.
“I think you know.”
He nods, agreeing, “I think I do too, but I’d rather you tell me.”
That alone almost makes her cave, almost makes her cut herself completely open for him. Almost. “And you’re gonna be actually honest with me too, for a change?”
He’s taken enough from her already, he knows. And it comes with shame and guilt. He also knows he has to give her something in return, as well. More than that, he wants to.
“I am.”
She swallows, looks the other way and then back at him. “You were right that night, when you said I was done, when you told me I shouldn’t get back on the stage.” She pushes some of her hair behind her ear and he wishes he’d been the one to do so. “I should’ve listened to you, maybe then I wouldn’t have –”
He interrupts her as kindly as he possibly can, “Hey, you can’t do this to yourself.” Billy keeps looking at her and it hits her again, how much he actually cares. “Besides, you wouldn’t be Daisy Jones if you listened to me that easily.”
It gets a soft chuckle out of her and all he thinks is how badly he wants to be the one to comfort her, soothe her, take care of her. “Well, getting on your nerves is quite therapeutic for me, what can I say?”
They share another brief laugh and then he carries on with the conversation, “That’s not all you meant, though.”
She sighs, avoiding his eyes, clearly frustrated. What’s even the point in saying it out loud? A shake of her head and another sigh. And then she’s lost in his eyes again and she knows she’s about to give him what he wants – all of it, all of her if he asks. How could she not?
“You were right. You do know what it looks like when I’m in love with someone.” She says, parroting his previous words back at him because it’s easier that way, safer.
Easier and safer than saying the actual words I’m in love with you. Even though she suspects Billy, his wife, her still-but-soon-to-be-ex-husband, the band, and everyone and their mother know.
His face softens as he looks at her like she’s a miracle come to life and she knows, in her heart and gut and in the space in between her organs, he feels the same.
“Why did you try to kiss me after you said that?”
She swears she sees a flash of guilt covering his face before he answers, “Because I’m a fucking asshole and I wanted to prove a point.”
Daisy insists, “And?”
He swallows hard and she wants to press her lips on his Adam’s apple. “Because kissing you is all I can think about since that day on the parking lot.”
She knows she asked for honesty, but it still gets her off guard. Her heart starts pulsing loudly in her throat and a tiny part of her is glad Billy is such a fucking liar, because she’d be even more doomed if he was always this frank.
Without giving her time to reply, he shares another confession, “I went looking for you at the Chateau once, you know? I didn’t know it at the time but you’d already gone to Greece.” The last word tasting sour on his tongue.
A mix of genuine surprise and curiosity in her voice when she asks, “Why did you go there?”
He shakes his head slightly – does he even know the answer to that question? He’s aware of what he convinced himself he went there for: to apologize. But had Daisy been there and had him gotten in her bedroom, who knows what would’ve happened?
He knows what he wanted that day, though. Knows what he imagined while he drove to her hotel. Knows what he wanted to do to her and have her do to him.
Knows what he still wants.
“I think mostly to apologize?” He says it like a question, and it gets her attention. “For the Rolling Stones article, for our fight during the shoot, for kissing you.”
She doesn’t hesitate, “You’re not sorry you kissed me.”
“No.” He admits, promptly. “But I am sorry I lied and said it was only to get you back on the mic. It wasn’t.”
Daisy doesn’t respond but she gives him an appreciative smile, and he smiles in return. It hits him just how easy it is – being honest with her. It’s always easy with her, it seems. It was only ever hard and difficult because he needed to make things hard and difficult between them. He’s a married man who isn’t supposed to feel any of the all-consuming desire and awe and love for anyone but his devoted, forgiving, loving wife. So trying to make things hard and difficult with Daisy seemed like the only way.
But right now, he can’t bring himself to care. And he’ll allow himself to welcome the easiness and the truth and everything else that comes within being in her presence.
So he continues, a laughter escaping his lips before he says, “I went to your room to kick you out of the band that night in Miami.”
Daisy raises her eyebrows, entertained, and playfully pokes the side of his thigh with her toes. He fights the urge to grab on her feet and pull her even closer. “Did you, now?”
“Stupid of me to think I could do it, though.” The words roll off his tongue without much thought, and she gives him a smile that lets him know she’ll tease him about this for as long as they live.
All he can think is that she’s devastatingly beautiful when she smiles like that.
They’re quiet for a second and she breaks the silence between them, asking after she relaxes her head against her arm on the couch, “Were you ever that close? To almost dying like that?” Like I almost did?
Billy inhales, “Maybe?” He says it like a question because he likes to think he wasn’t, but he’s not sure. “I don’t know if I would’ve gone to rehab if Julia hadn’t been born that night. I don’t know if I’d still be alive.”
She thinks that what he isn’t saying is that his daughter saved him. That his wife saved him as well. And that he carries that with him – that sense of debt, obligation, guilt.
Daisy feels intruded by the sudden weight of his family in her thoughts – she doesn’t want them here, especially not now. To push them away and to ground herself in him, she slowly stretches one leg and then the other, resting them carefully on his lap.
He watches her attentively and while Daisy waits for any sort of reprehensive reaction from him, it never comes.
“I’m glad you are alive, Billy.”
“I’m glad you’re alive too, Daisy.”
His eyes are holding hers when she feels his touch in her right ankle under the blanket. He’s delicate at first, but her breath still catches on her throat. She encourages him with her eyes and with a slight rub of her leg against his own, and he complies, starts running his fingers up and down her legs. Her skin burns underneath his touch and she wonders if he can feel it, that fire. She supposes he can and, in his eyes, she can see that he’s burning for her, too.
She longed for his touch for so long. She wondered what it would feel, having his hands exploring her skin like a map like this. Daisy wants to shut her eyes close, wants to bite on her bottom lip, wants to dig her nails hard on the fabric of the couch – but she doesn’t, not yet.
“Can I ask you something now?” She asks and he’s suddenly glad she usually doesn’t ask for permission otherwise his life would be (even more) fucked. After he nods, Daisy goes on, “Were you jealous of Nicky?”
She considered asking him why – why were you jealous of Nicky? – but then thought better of it. She doesn’t think he would be able to handle that truth, not entirely.
His jaw flexes and she can tell he’s not that comfortable with her question, which honestly isn’t a problem for her. “Very.”
Daisy was hoping for an admission, maybe a small yeah or I was, tops.
Very feels a lot, though. What also feels a lot is the way he looks at her as he says it, the way his grip tightens on her knee now. She swallows down a moan and her lips part slightly.
“Does it bother you?” Billy asks.
“What bothers me is you thinking you’re entitled to be jealous when objectively you’re not.” She says and he looks at her like he understands what she’s saying but knows there’s more to it, like he’s waiting for her to continue. So she does, “But part of me likes it.” Daisy confesses, and she sees how his breathing accelerates, his fingers now touching the skin right above her knee. “Part of me wants you to be jealous of me, possessive.”
His hand slides up as he caresses her inner thigh. He knows what he’s doing, she thinks. But two can play at this game. So she leans back onto both of her hands, a daring look on her face as she opens her leg a little more – to give him better access, sure, but also to rub on his crotch with her calf.
He begins to move his hand again and she tells him to lose the blanket. Now he gives her a warning look and it’s such a Billy thing for him to do, she thinks. But Daisy gets what she wants, “It’s hot. Please, Billy.” That would’ve been more than enough to convince him, but she goes further, “Besides, I wanna see you touching me. Don’t you?”
He answers her question by throwing the blanket on the other side of the couch across from them. The sight of her bare, long legs on his lap, the contrast of her soft skin and his calloused fingers, the warmth that irradiates from her – there’s no going back from this, he thinks. Right now, he’s positive he would go to heaven and hell and back if it meant continuing to touch her, continuing to feel her.
Billy is completely in her web and has no intention of leaving.
When he sat by her side, he knew where this was going to go. He knew what he wanted to happen. And he pondered, for a second or two, if he would regret it in the morning. That’s precisely the issue – he knows he should. A good, noble man would regret it. A better, nobler man wouldn’t even be here. But he’s not that man. And for the first time in a long, long time, he’s okay with that. Because that man isn’t the one watching the flush on Daisy’s cheeks. That man isn’t the one her body is calling and burning for.
He is.
And right now, that is everything.
“Did you imagine this?” His voice is primal, covered in want, desire, hunger.
“Many times.” She says and her tone matches his. He rewards her by sliding his hand higher, the tip of his finger now reaching the hem of her deliciously short shorts. “Did you?”
He lets out this breathless laugh, clearly enjoying the little game they’re playing. “You don’t know the half of it.” She smiles at his honesty and then she rewards him too by moving her right leg up and a down twice to rub on him. He bites on his bottom lip and drags his hand all the way down to her ankle again in order to tease her.
She’d be frustrated if she wasn’t so turned on. “Tell me. Tell me what you imagined.”
That voice of hers is a good reason to follow her until the very ends of this Earth, he thinks. “Your voice – I imagined how you’d sound.”
“When fucked?” She asks and he spots a hint of impatience in her tone, so naturally, he slows his movements, his fingers now travelling behind her knee.
Billy shakes his head negatively and she’s confused for a second. “How you’d sound when fucked by me.”
Because there’s obviously a difference.
Daisy doesn’t say anything, letting those words sit heavy between them for a moment. Something in the air shifts, and if all that familiar tension was already tangible, now it’s almost concrete. Billy is rubbing small circles on her inner thigh and she wants him to take her immediately. Over and over and over again. She’s aware she’s staring at him obscenely, but she can’t bring herself to care when whatever he sees in her eyes, she sees reflected in his as well. The smug look he has on his face right now doesn’t annoy her, even if it probably should. In fact, if anything, it just makes her much wetter. She thinks he can probably tell, thinks he knows that attitude of his always gets her going.
He slides his hand higher once again, and it’s driving her crazy, how close he is from where she actually needs him. With his eyes still on hers, Billy slowly pushes his index finger underneath the hem of her shorts, moving his finger and caressing the skin he can reach. Her legs open a little further on their own account and he smiles, pleased with how her body responds to him.
He suddenly brings his hand up to work on her buttons. There are four and he takes his time with each one, his eyes never leaving hers. Her heart is pounding loudly in her chest and she feels that tension and hunger everywhere in her body – in the curve of her foot, behind her knee, in her stomach, on the tip of her fingers, between her legs. She wants him to consume her, swallow her whole, merge their skins into one.
“Tell me what you’re thinking about.” She says, her voice barely audible as if to not disturb the moment, watching him work on the last button.
“That you’re fucking beautiful.” His finger now explores the newly exposed skin of her lower stomach as he traces random patterns. Billy slides just the tip of his middle finger under the elastic of her lacy panties, taking pleasure in how her chest rises and falls more rapidly and how she bites on her bottom lip in anticipation. “The most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
He’s using both of his hands now, one is travelling up and down her inner thigh and the other, up and down her stomach. She presses her leg harder against his crotch, rubbing and teasing on him slowly, a smile covering her lips when he lets out a low, shaky, “Fuck.”
“What do you want from me, Billy?”
“Honestly?” He answers her question with another question and she nods. “Right now?” Another nod. “Whatever it is you’re willing to give me, Daisy. Whatever it is you’d let me – do.”
She’s braver than him, always has been. And if she’s the one who has to push them over the precipice for good, so be it.
“I’d let you do anything you want to me.”
There’s too much in her voice when she says it. And it’s not a healthy or good thing to say or to feel but she doesn’t care. They’re not healthy or good. They don’t fit in those reductive boxes, they’re bigger, larger, messier. They’re more. And ultimately, she’s telling him the truth. She would lie down here, right now, and Billy could do anything he wanted to her. She knows it would be exactly what she wanted, too.
It’s nearly too much for Billy – having her say that, having her offer herself completely to him like that.
“I can’t give you what you deserve, Daisy.”
What he means is, I can’t let myself love you the way you deserve to be loved.
When it comes to men, she doesn’t think she deserves all that much to be honest. As a child, she was treated to believe she was hard to love, that she lacked something that would inspire love in others. Her whole life, men only wanted her body or talent for their own benefit, their own pleasure. They would take and take and use and use like she didn’t exist.
Objectively, she knows what he gives her seems to be much bigger and better also because she’s gotten used to receiving so little.
But Daisy wants what she wants and what she wants is Billy. And right now, she’ll gladly accept the portion of him she can have. So eventually, she might feel pathetic and hate herself for saying the following words, but not tonight. “I don’t care. Just – give me what I want and take all you want from me, too.”
They hold each other’s gaze silently for a moment and then he slides one of his hands until it’s pressed on her lower back. He then wraps his arm around her waist and pulls her on his lap, her knees bracketing his hips. A gasp escapes her lips and her eyes flutter closed when she – finally – feels his hardness against her crotch.
She rests her forehead against his, presses one hand against his chest and the other on the nape of his neck. Billy’s hands are travelling everywhere they can reach – he studies every little detail of her body with his fingertips. When he reaches her ass, he squeezes her with his big hands and she rolls her hips for him. He swallows hard at the contact and when her lips part slightly, he leans in to just brush his mouth on hers, torturing the both of them.
“This doesn’t have to mean anything.” Daisy whispers, her voice comes out desperate and she’s unsure who she’s trying to convince – herself or him.
Her eyes are closed now but she feels him shaking his head. “That’s fucking impossible at this point.” He sighs, running his fingers through her hair and pushing some of it behind her ear. Billy pulls back to look at her, his action making her open her eyes. “You don’t really believe that. This,” he gestures between the two of them, tightens his grip on her body, “this already means–”
She doesn’t let him finish it. “I meant – let’s just have this. Okay?” She uses both of her hands to cradle his face and he leans into her touch, pressing a small kiss on her palm. “We don’t have to talk about it and tomorrow we can go on with our lives as if it never happened.” Her words don’t make much sense to her. The line he has between his eyebrows now let her know they don’t make much sense to him either. “But tonight, it’s me and you. Nothing else exists. Okay?”
He smiles at her, bright and beautiful, and she tries not to focus too much on the fact she can see a whole life in the green of his eyes.
“Nothing else exists.” He repeats her words back to her before leaning in and finally pressing his lips on hers.
Suddenly, he’s a thirsty, dehydrated man who had been wandering in the desert for the past week and she’s a bottle of water. She opens her mouth to welcome more of him, moaning quietly when he licks his way inside and deepens the kiss. He can’t get enough. The more he tastes her, the more he wants. Billy fists on her hair as his tongue continues to chase hers and she grinds her hips on his while biting on his bottom lip. He groans and she smiles against his mouth, sliding her hand underneath his t-shirt and feeling his muscles flex as his body responds to her.
She tugs on the fabric. “Off. Take it off.” Daisy manages to say into the kiss.
And so he does.
Right after he discards the t-shirt somewhere in the room, his mouth – insatiable and devouring – is back on hers. He kisses her until her lips are swollen, kisses her until her toes are curling, kisses her until the two of them can no longer breathe.
Daisy pulls away and smiles when he leans in slightly, eager to continue. She stares deeply into his eyes while they try to catch their breaths and her heart sinks a little in her chest because she’s positive no one will ever look at her the way he is right now.
She moves to get out of the couch and back on her feet and she watches his hands reach out for her, watches the way his face falls for a millisecond, fearing she might be leaving. Daisy wishes she could say, tell me and I’ll stay forever. But she can’t. So she just smiles, her eyes firmly on his when she asks, “You wanna watch me take my clothes off for you?”
His mouth waters and his cock jumps inside his pants and she’s looking at him like she knows. “I really do.”
As she slowly takes off her tiny shorts and her sheer blouse, she thinks about how powerful it is, being under his gaze. She has millions of people around the world identifying with and singing the lyrics she’s written. Nearly every night, she has fans pouring out their love and watching her like she’s some religious entity. Yet nothing comes close to this. Nothing comes close to the devotion in his eyes. She wishes she could be under his gaze forever.
After she takes her top off, standing in front of him with her chest bare, she hooks her fingers on the fabric of her panties but he stops her, reaching out and pulling Daisy onto his lap again. His abrupt movement makes her laugh and he thinks about how much he loves every little noise she makes.
She covers his mouth with her own and there’s more urgency in the way her lips taste his and her hips move against his. He grabs on her hair and pulls her head back, his mouth now open on her neck, sucking on her pulse point. He takes his time to leave a trail of wet kisses on her skin and when his lips close around her nipple, she moans. “Fuck – Billy.”
He blows her skin and then gives her other breast the same amount of dedication and attention, Daisy digging her nails on his back and rolling her hips quite impatiently. He pulls back to look at her again, a question in his eyes, a mix of fire, and hunger, and too much tenderness considering what they are or are supposed to be.
She nods, gives him a smile, watching with anticipation as he slides his hand down her torso until it reaches where she wants him the most. He caresses her through the fabric of her – now impossibly soaked and pretty much ruined – panties, her lips trembling as he applies more pressure. She bucks her hips against his hand, searching for more – more contact, more friction, more anything – and it turns him on even more.
When he pushes the fabric to the side, his fingers touching her drenched slit for the first time, he swears he catches a glimpse of heaven.
“You always this wet for me?”
She nods once, but then again, two can play at this game. “You like knowing that?” She whispers against his mouth as she moves her hips and he slides just the tip of his middle finger in. “Knowing how wet I am for you every night while we’re on that stage together? Knowing that whenever I touch myself I think of you?”
He pushes his finger all the way inside, both of them moaning in unison.
“Fuck – Daisy.”
She tells him she needs more and he gives her what she wants, sliding another finger and curving them inside. He watches the shape of her mouth, watches how she teases her nipple with her thumb and index finger, watches her struggle not to close her eyes because she wants to keep watching him watching her. And maybe he shouldn’t say it out loud, but fuck it. “You’re so fucking beautiful. I could watch you like this forever.”
She breathes out his name against his lips, like Billy is a whole, coherent sentence. And he kisses her again, his mouth claiming her own over and over. When he removes his fingers from her, she whines, discontent, but doesn’t have time to verbally complain about it because Billy gets up on his feet, holding her body to his like it’s the most natural, easiest thing.
He lays her down, gently pressing her back against the couch – too gently, considering what perhaps all of this is supposed to be. He hovers over her as he continues to kiss her, her arms and legs wrapped around his body, her hips rolling on his.
“I want to taste you.” He whispers against her mouth, her bottom lip between his teeth. “Can I taste you, Daisy?”
She traces a line on his lip with the tip of her tongue before she repeats her previous words, “You can do anything you want to me.” And she loves the taste of those words on her lips, loves how her voice is covered in lust and voracity and truth.
He kneels down on the couch and keeps his eyes steady on hers as he slowly rolls her panties off her legs. She figures she should tease him too, so she presses her foot against his chest and slides it down until it reaches his erection. He lets her rub her foot on him through the sweatpants he’s still wearing and he’s certain this is the most aroused he’s ever been. He grabs on her foot, forcing her to stop.
“You’re making me wait too fucking long.” She complains, pouting at him.
Billy kisses the bridge of one foot, then the other. “Don’t worry.” His mouth opens against her skin as he kisses all the way from her ankle to her inner thigh. “I plan on fucking you the whole night.”
A devilish smile plays on her lips as she props herself up on her elbows to watch him, Daisy licking on her lips in anticipation. He buries his face between her legs and takes his time to tease her, licking her everywhere. There’s something so ridiculously intense and obscene about the way he’s looking at her, she can only run her nails on his scalp and move her hips in small circles, beyond desperate for release. It drives him crazy – how turned on she looks, how turned on she feels. Still staring at him, she takes one of his hands and brings it to her mouth. She kisses his fingertips a few times at first, then she licks his fingers slowly until she opens her mouth, putting them inside. She hollows her cheeks, moaning as she sucks on his fingers – a promise for later.
He’s wrecked beyond repair at this point, yet he wouldn’t have it any other way. “Shit – you’re so fucking good, Daisy.” He says against her flesh, and the vibration combined with what he’s saying is nearly too much. “Even better than I had imagined, baby.”
Billy slides two fingers inside of her as his tongue continues to work on her clit. It’s not long until she’s coming undone, his name falling off her lips repeatedly, his tongue tasting every bit of what she gives him. Her body’s still trembling in pleasure when he begins kissing his way up her stomach and chest and throat, until he gets to her mouth. She whimpers at the taste of herself on his tongue, reaching in between their bodies to slide her hand inside his pants and take a hold on him, stroking him up and down.
He bucks his hips against her hand and she can tell he’s just as desperate as she is. “Tell me you want this.”
“I want you to fuck me. Over and over again.” She begs, her lips brushing his as she stares deeply into his eyes. “Make me feel good, Billy. I want to make you feel good, too.”
Billy gets rid of his pants and pulls Daisy back on his lap. She teases the both of them, pressing his tip against her slippery opening and rubbing herself on him. He suspects Daisy Jones eventually might be the actual death of him and all he can think is that there would be no sweeter way to die. She sinks down on him and he swears, the feel of her immediately makes his entire existence in this planet worthwhile.
This is why he was born, this is why all events in his life led him here.
To get to share this feeling with her.
He’s so hard and so thick, but she’s so unbelievably wet for him that she doesn’t need a second to accommodate him. She starts riding him and whatever piece she spent her whole life thinking was missing, doesn’t anymore. She feels full and enough and it is as beautiful of a feeling as it is devastating.
It’s easy to set a rhythm – too easy. They should’ve guessed this would feel familiar as well. It doesn’t feel like they’re getting to know each other’s bodies just now. It feels like they’re remembering something already imprinted in their minds and souls. As if they have known each other before, and done this before, and loved one another before – in another time, another place, another life.
His fingers are digging hard on her hips, helping her continue to move, his breath hot against her face as he whispers just how good and wet and tight and right she feels. She bites on his bottom lip and pulls it, moaning loudly and moving her hips even harder against his own in response.
He’s fisting on her hair when he continues, “So fucking good, Daisy.” And then quieter, “I knew you’d be this good.”
It’s a terrifying feeling – how badly she wants to be good for him. She smiles, wishing she could stop time and allow both of them to live in this moment forever.
Then her hips are moving more frantically and her walls are clenching all around him and he knows, instantly, nothing else will compare to watching and feeling her like this. When she comes, she throws her head back, a chant of his name on her lips, “Billy, Billy, Billy.”
Daisy doesn’t stop moving her hips, wanting to prolong the sensation, wanting to get him there with her. She locks eyes with him again, and for a second he thinks that’s the image he’ll see behind his eyelids every time he closes his eyes – her messy hair, her smudged make-up, her red, swollen lips, those fucking eyes. She’s too much.
She whispers, pleading, “I want to feel you come inside of me.” And those words coming out of those lips equals the holiest of things, he thinks. And so he comes, gives her all he has, joining her over the edge.
After, they stay in silence for a moment, Daisy tracing the lines of his face with her fingertips and Billy running his fingers carefully through her hair.
“Wanted to do this since the night I met you.” He confesses.
She grins and, like he knew she would, says, “I know.” He chuckles in response and she sighs, content, before brushing her lips against his, “Me, too.”
Eventually, he’ll stop confessing things he’s not supposed to feel, let alone share with her, but not right now, “This is the most alive I’ve felt in a long time.”
Daisy wraps her arms around his shoulders, and says, playfully. “I’ll say. You do feel very alive to me.” She kisses him and they laugh against one another’s mouth.
And because he cares too much and she’s been living inside his thoughts and concerns and in the space between his organs more than ever before in the past few days, he asks, his thumb caressing her jaw, “You okay?”
Daisy smiles and kisses both corners of his mouth, “I am. You?”
It actually freaks him out a little, just how okay he feels. He’s really not used to the feeling, can’t remember the last time in his life things felt so right. And he knows that outside that door, the world continues to spin in its own mess. But in this moment and bubble with her, they’re safe – at least for tonight.
“I am.”
Billy leans in and kisses her, slow and lazy, like they stand a chance, like they have all the time in the world. She lets herself melt into his arms, lets herself surrender to the firmness and safety of his embrace. And they kiss and kiss and kiss. They kiss until she feels that familiar tension beginning to build up in her stomach again, until she’s moaning quietly into his mouth.
“Now, back to what you promised me.” She whispers against his mouth, referring to what he had said about fucking her the entire night. “Let’s do it again.”
And who is he to deny her anything, really?
His mouth is urgent and insistent on her neck but she can feel him smirking against her skin, one hand on her butt and the other on her breast. “How do you want it?”
Daisy runs her fingers teasingly along his cock a few times before she wraps them around him, starting to stroke, getting him ready. “Against that door.”
Billy looks up at her and the mix of awe and hunger she sees in his eyes leaves her shivering in anticipation. “You’re fascinating.” His delivery of the word gets a genuine laugh out of her for some reason and it feels dangerously good, being the one to make her laugh like that.
She has her legs and arms around him when he presses her back against the door. Her lips are bruising against his, her nails are sinking on his skin, her groans are feral as she rubs herself on him – all of it tells him she wants it rougher this time. Daisy asks him to put her down and he complies, then she turns around, sticking her ass out for him, looking at him from over her shoulder.
“Fuck.” He mutters under his breath, pressing his body against hers as he holds his cock in his hand and teases her opening with his tip. “You want it like this?”
She nods, pushing her ass on him and biting on her bottom lip. “Please.”
And then he’s everywhere again and all she feels and sees and thinks and smells is Billy. He wraps his arms around her, holding her tightly to him as he thrusts inside of her hard, her hips meeting his every movement. And he loves her like this – completely lost in her desire, in her need to being taken, possessed by him. She begs for more, begs for him to go even deeper, so he hitches her leg up, slides entirely out of her just to push back inside again and fills her up with everything he has. When she throws her head on his shoulder, he carefully circles her throat with his hand.
“God – Billy.” She presses her hand on top of his, applying more pressure. “You fuck me so good. Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop.”
“Do you feel how hard you make me?” He asks, marking every word with a thrust of his hips. All she can do is cry out in response. “I’m always this hard for you, Daisy. You feel so fucking good. Wanna fuck you forever.”
And it’s not supposed to be like this – this good, this meaningful. He’s not supposed to say that. He’s not supposed to mean that.
Yet he can’t regret it.
Neither of them last long after what he says, both of them coming together this round. It’s a lot, her knees threaten to give in but the solidity of his body holds her in place. There isn’t much space for them to lie comfortably in the room but it doesn’t matter. Billy lies down on the couch and brings her with him, her naked, sweaty body on top of his.
He keeps running his hands all over her back and she rubs circles with her thumb on his chest. It’s quiet for a long time, until he asks, as if he can feel her brain working, “What are you thinking about?”
She sighs happily and he can’t see her face but feels her smile against his skin. “I’m writing a song.”
And he won’t know it for sure, at least not for a while, but the song she’s writing in her mind is the same she’ll sing and play, only for him, in a few days. The same song he’ll secretly think about many, many, many times in the years to come.
If tonight is all they’ll ever have, they must make the most of it.
So later, she takes him in her mouth. And as she suspected she would, she loves being on her knees for him, loves sucking him off like worshipping him is the only thing that matters to her in that moment – it is. Loves the feel of his hand, firm yet tender, as he holds her hair to get a better look at her face. Loves to watch him mutter dirty things and words of encouragement and promises both of them know he won’t be able to keep. Loves how he tastes in her mouth when he comes.
Then, she lets him watch her make herself come. She sits across from him, on the other side of the couch, her legs wide open, two of her fingers disappearing easily inside of her. He watches and watches and watches. And he wants, as desperately as is humanly possible. Billy didn’t even know he had so much room in him to want someone this much.
After another orgasm washes over her, she walks to him and he’s ready to go again. And they fuck, and fuck, and fuck. Over and over again throughout the night. Until their bodies can no longer take it. Until her mouth is numb and her legs can’t support her own weight and she’s overly sensitive and sore. Even then, she still wants to give herself to him again.
Around five in the morning, the inevitable bursting of the bubble feels heavy in the air. They’re tangled in one another on the couch when Daisy meets his gaze, her eyes glistening with shy tears. She doesn’t have to say anything – he gets it. Billy kisses her temple, holds her tighter to him, “I know.” He whispers. “Me, too.”
And he’s unsure as to what he means. Me too as in I too wish things were different? Me too as in I love you too? Me too as in I’ll never forget this night either?
All of the above, probably.
They don’t sleep, and when the sun begins to rise, she reluctantly starts to get dressed.
Daisy gives him one last kiss and he fights the urge to slide his tongue inside her mouth to deepen the kiss and set all their lives on fire, he fights the urge to beg her to stay. And she doesn’t stay. Billy watches her leave the room just like she’ll watch him leave the stage and her life for good just a few days later.
They won’t talk about that night – at least not for twenty years. But alone, privately, they’ll continue to grasp on the memory of that night – the intensity of it, the singularity of it, the feeling of it. Until they meet again.